


Gold

by tacroy



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9908828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacroy/pseuds/tacroy
Summary: Ann bats Leslie’s hands out of the way and puts the tube of cookie dough on the coffee table and scoots forward so that she is sitting right in front of Leslie, legs crossed. She reaches out and takes Leslie’s face in her hands. “You’re gorgeous.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Existing Leslie/Ben open relationship. Set while Ben is in DC.
> 
> I wrote this in about two hours way too late at night, so, yeah.

Leslie is upside down on her couch watching CSPAN on a Saturday night. Horrible, overall. She hasn’t been this boring of a person for at least a year. She’s caught up on most of the Parks backlog from the campaign. She’s reorganized her binder closet. She’s made a strawberry cheesecake, a collage of her and Ben’s forbidden romance, and three birdhouses from leftover kits she’d bought for the last Pawnee Goddesses meeting.

She’s bored and she misses Ben and she’s this close to driving down to JJ’s and buying another gallon of whipped cream and eating it with a sugar cookie spoon and watching Sleepless in Seattle for the ninth time in a week when Ann texts. _Aaaaaand I’m done._

Leslie flips around frantically on the couch and puts Orrin Hatch’s sultry voice on mute. _What? Already?_

Ann writes back immediately. _Yeah, when he said he went to Harvard, he meant that one time, he went to Harvard to visit a buddy who was a janitor there._

 _Ouch_ , says Leslie. _What are you doing now? Want to come over? Say yes, I’m super bored._

_Yes, sure! I’ll be there soon. Want me to bring anything?_

_Just your gorgeous self!_

She unmutes CSPAN. Elizabeth Warren is talking about the minimum wage. Oh, yeah. Leslie sits back and lets Warren’s lovely voice wash over her. This is more like it.

=

Leslie has knocked back a glass and a half of the very cheapest chardonnay Food N’ Stuff has to offer by the time Ann walks in with a tube of cookie dough and her little overnight kit. Gosh. There’s something about that overnight kit. Leslie is tipsy enough that she plants a big kiss on Ann’s cheek and grabs the tube of cookie dough.

“Hey! Let me have some!” Ann protests, laughing. 

“Ann, you gorgeous, fluffy chocolate lab, I might let you have some of this,” says Leslie through a mouthful of dough. “Be nice! I’m pining.”

Ann frowns at her. “You’re just being greedy,” she says, settling down across from Leslie on the couch. She’s wearing a lovely red dress with a sweetheart neckline and a trendy cropped suit jacket. Goodness. And red lipstick. And a smoky eye. And black heels. For a second, Leslie feels utterly inadequate in her sweatpants and Harvest Festival t-shirt. Her own blonde hair is clipped back and the only makeup she’s wearing is the tinted SPF she puts on every morning after she washes her face.

“Whatever, you’re greedy,” Leslie shoots back. “You should have brought yourself a tube if you expected to have any. It’s like you don’t even know me.” She takes another bite of dough, belligerently.

“Fine, you can have it,” Ann says, touching her cheek next to her eye unconsciously, and the silver bracelet she wears slides down her thin wrist into her jacket sleeve. Leslie watches it, chewing slowly.

She swallows both the dough and the lump in her throat. Suddenly it’s too much, to have her best friend looking like this, being like this. “Do you think I’m pretty?” says Leslie, trying to keep the open desperation out of her voice.

Ann laughs. “What? Of course, you dummy,” she says, grinning. She bats Leslie’s hands out of the way and puts the tube of cookie dough on the coffee table, and scoots forward so that she is sitting right in front of Leslie, legs crossed. She reaches out and takes Leslie’s face in her hands. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Whatever,” says Leslie, rolling her eyes. “You’re just saying that.” She grabs Ann’s wrists and tries to pull away, but Ann just laughs again, musical, and leans over and kisses her.

Leslie is never, ever prepared for it. She has kissed Ann on one hundred and eighty-three different occasions in her life, and every time it is like her lips turn gold at Ann’s touch, and the gold melts into her, and everything goes bright. Ann kisses her laughing, carding her fingers through Leslie’s tangled hair, nipping at her bottom lip.

“This is okay, right?” says Ann, pausing. It is so unfair to stop like that. Her eyes are bright and close and her lips are shiny and Leslie can’t breathe properly. “You and Ben are still okay with this, right?”

“Yes,” says Leslie, stroking helplessly at Ann’s hair, “yes, Ann, this is okay, we’re okay with this, this is—”

But Ann is kissing her again and cradling the back of her head in her hands, and Leslie lets herself relax, finally; lets the city council and missing Ben and worrying about the department all drip out of her head. “I hated that guy,” Ann says into her ear, pressing her against the arm of the couch. “He was smelly and he ordered fried pickles and a one hundred and twenty ounce Coke. What the hell!”

“Unacceptable,” agrees Leslie, burying her face in Ann’s neck. “Disgusting. So glad you left.”

“Mmm, me too,” says Ann. She’s draped across Leslie now, pressing her down, her lips near Leslie’s ear. Leslie presses kisses to Ann’s neck, up and down her throat, sucking a kiss into the hollow beneath her chin, sinking her teeth into the muscle at the base of her neck.

“God,” Ann mutters, her voice heavy and close. Leslie mouths at her collarbone and brings her knee up between Ann’s legs. The red dress rides up and Leslie runs her hand up the outside of Ann’s smooth thigh, to rest just under the hem of the dress, on her sharp hip. “ _Fuck_ , Leslie.”

Leslie runs her other hand up Ann’s other thigh until she has a hold of Ann’s hips. She grinds her knee up between Ann’s legs, and Ann gasps into her ear. “ _Fu-uck,_ ” Ann says again, drawing it out into long syllables, rubbing herself on Leslie’s leg.

Leslie tugs Ann’s suit jacket off her and buries her face shamelessly in Ann’s cleavage, kissing across her chest and fluttering her eyelashes against the thin skin of Ann’s decolletage. Ann giggles and gasps and rocks her hips from side to side, and Leslie is going to come out of her damn skin at the mewling noises Ann is making. She reaches around and unzips Ann’s dress, running her fingers down Ann’s bare spine as Ann gasps into her mouth.

“Get this off,” Leslie hisses, tugging at the dress. She doesn’t want to hurt it, but also, it’s super in her way and that is just unforgivable. Ann laughs again—she laughs so much, so brightly, that it makes Leslie’s heart hurt—and gets off Leslie’s lap (terrible) and shimmies out of the dress.

“Oh,” says Leslie, staring.

Ann is the perfect woman. Her skin is lovely and dark and soft and her hair is a little crazy around her head from Leslie’s hands, and her mouth is open very slightly, and her eyes are black and blown. She stands there for a second, the dress tossed across a chair, her heels under the coffee table, in a practical beige bra and white underwear, and Leslie stares some more. She has the best life and the best friends and all of the despair she felt earlier is stupid and pointless because she might not have Ben, right now, but she will always have Ann, forever, and Ann is perfect and Ann is her best friend and also, and this is pretty important at the moment, maybe a little bit more important than everything else, Ann is the sexiest woman she has ever encountered in real life, and she’s almost naked in her living room.

“Wow,” says Leslie. “Wow. Ann. Wow.”

“Shut up,” says Ann, looking away and going all bashful.

“No, seriously,” says Leslie, as sincere as she has ever been in her entire life, and that is saying something. “Ann. _Wow._ ”

“Whatever,” says Ann. “Come on.” And she grabs Leslie’s hand and takes her to the bedroom.

Ann spends a long time taking off Leslie’s clothes. It’s good for everyone. After a while they’re both down to underwear. Then Leslie starts getting antsy and the bras disappear, which leads to some nice biting and licking and a little more grinding. Then Leslie has to go turn the air conditioner down because she is getting seriously sweaty, which makes Ann laugh again and tell her that she’s an old lady, and Leslie has to shove her onto the bed and silence her.

Leslie has been bossy all of her life. She forced her way into student government, into a better college than a small-town girl deserved, into a government position she wasn’t quite qualified for. She knows what she wants. Most of the time, she wants Ben—she wants to shackle him to her, carry him around in her pocket, tie him up and use him. She wants power, because she knows she’d use it well; because she knows she has the best ideas, and she cares the most, and she can help more than anybody else can.

She always wants Ann. She wants Ann’s kindness, her calm, her attitude, her common sense. Right now, she wants Ann split open before her. She kisses Ann, deep, hard, and Ann moans into her as she strokes Ann’s side, rolls a nipple between her fingers, drifts her hand lower and lower until she presses between Ann’s legs.

Ann gasps and ahhs and Leslie savors the first touches, when Ann is barely wet and waiting and sensitive to the lightest brush of fingertips around her lips and clit. Leslie sucks at the side of Ann’s breast, licks and nibbles at her nipples, and deepens the stroke of her fingers, up and down, until Ann is whining and clutching at her own hair and whispering “Leslie, Leslie,” and Leslie kisses her one more time, true and sweet, before sinking down between Ann’s legs.

She lays the same kiss on Ann’s clit, working her tongue in a textured circle. “You smell so good,” she whispers to Ann’s thigh, pressing a brief kiss to Ann’s pubic mound, “Ann. God.”

“Leslie,” Ann says again, like it’s all she can say. “Oh. _Please._ ” And that’s all Leslie needs to dive in, to wrap her lips around Ann’s clit and suck and lick and draw hearts and write _I love you_ where their lips meet. Ann keeps saying her name, her voice breaking, and Leslie goes faster and harder and finally, when her chin is dripping and her tongue aches beautifully, she crooks two fingers inside of Ann and latches onto her clit and goes as hard as she can, until Ann is bucking and crying and clutching at Leslie’s hair and shuddering into a million pieces.

After, Ann fingers her lazily for what feels like hours, and when Leslie finally comes, Ann’s teeth on the spot underneath her ear that drives her wild, it feels as inevitable as the sunrise. They eat most of the cookie dough and Ann falls asleep with her head on Leslie’s shoulder. Leslie plants a kiss on top of her head and takes another bite of cookie dough. _Overall,_ she thinks, _better than waffles._


End file.
